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Well groomed, he looked like a duke and commanded a woman’s attention in a discreet way. Unkempt, his appearance made a woman’s hands beg to straighten his clothing. Or loosen it some more. His eyes looked into the depths of her being.
Rhys need never question whether a woman would only want him for his title and his wealth. But he should always question whether she wanted him only to pleasure her senses. The days Bellona had not seen him had taken her strength and weakened her for his touch.
Simpson needed to stay in the room. She needed to keep him there, for her own well-being. The granite in the duke’s eyes told her he would not back down and she could not lose her strength.
‘It’s said you have been about town, seeing that no man near you has a parched throat, and you’ve been more affable than people are used to seeing.’
‘I see no reason to hide from anyone. My life is my own. To live as I—’ Then his breath swooshed on the last word, echoing it in her ears. ‘As I wish.’
‘Your cravat is a sight,’ she said.
‘Well, dash my wig,’ he said, words light. ‘And I have been wearing it in public all day.’
Silence dragged.
‘Miss...’ Simpson said tentatively. ‘Might I pass by you?’
‘Not until the matter of your employment is settled.’
‘Simpson.’ The duke’s voice was a commanding boom. ‘You will return in the morning to take up where we left off.’
The man took a tentative step towards Bellona.
She left her hand at the door.
‘Bellona—’ Rhys spoke low, voice curling about her ‘—must I toss him out of the window?’
Predatory eyes snared her, but she wasn’t afraid. Well, not in the mortal sense, anyway.
* * *
Rhys made sure he truly looked at her. He needed to see past the hair, the memory of her body and the opinions of other people.
Her fingers slid from the wall and Simpson snaked out through the door before she had fully stepped aside.
‘So you are here to tell me all that I have done wrong. You do not have to. I am well aware. More so than you, I suspect.’ Rhys put the chair against the desk, but did not release the wood.
‘You have enraged my father.’
On that he had not been blinded by any foolishness of his heart. On that one thing he knew he was absolutely right. ‘Surely you cannot have concern for that man who did not even give you his true last name, but one he simply pulled from the air.’
‘I have no care for him,’ she said. ‘But his wife has been as kind to me as any mana would. I care for her. She suffers with him. It is the way of the world.’
‘She’s strong. She will survive.’ He gave the chair an extra shove.
‘If he shoots you, as it is said he has threatened, you might not.’
One side of his lips went up, a smirk. ‘It is not in his best interest to be near me. If I die merely from choking on a bone, he will hang. If he does try to do me in and I live, he will be hanged. I have seen to that already.’
‘You have convinced people to speak ill of his paintings.’
‘I have viewed a considerable amount of them in the past few days as I visited most homes in London where I knew the owners had his drivel displayed. I could not help but notice the subtle flaws in his work, which of course, I asked about before I viewed them. I only spoke the truth. Had he not had the funds of his wife as his patron, he would not have been able to survive on what his paintings earn and he is certainly not worth notice as an artist. Not only my opinion, but the men I talked with.’
‘It is in the scandal sheets that the Duke of R. mused about whether this artist painted with his toe or his elbow and suggested he be shown what a brush looks like.’
His lashes flicked down and then up. ‘That is actually a compliment compared to what I truly think. They would not even improve the look of a dust bin.’ He looked at her.
‘Not all of them are that bad.’
‘Enough are. Most are. Someone should have taken pity on him and broken his paintbrushes long ago.’
‘You are trying to do so now.’
‘Yes. The man had left you alone for years. He should have continued to do so.’
‘You brought even more attention to the situation.’
‘If I did not stand against him, I could not have lived with myself.’
His gaze locked on her so hard she might have become afraid, except something deeper behind his eyes showed a private agony. ‘I would not have injured you for the world and yet I live with, every day, how I caused your name to be sullied.’ He looked at the ring on his finger. The one passed from duke to duke.
He changed the direction of his gaze. ‘What does the crest on my carriage look like?’
